


trust fall

by blueink3



Series: siblings or something [3]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Future Fic, Gen, More Tags That Should Be Here But I Don't Want to Spoil It, Post-Canon, Sibling Bonding, a whisper of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 07:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30001398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueink3/pseuds/blueink3
Summary: “If I tell you this, I need to know that you won’t tell anyone. Not even David. Especially not David,” she says sharply before poking him in the thigh. “No pillow talk or-or secret sharing. I know you two have this whole ‘til death do us part’ thing going on, but even Death has a few things she doesn’t tell anyone, I’m sure.”“Alexis - ” he says, because he truly has no idea how to respond to that. Except to say, “I won’t tell David.”Or, Alexis comes to Patrick for advice, which is not remotely prepared to give.
Relationships: Background Alexis/Ted - Relationship, Patrick Brewer & Alexis Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: siblings or something [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678900
Comments: 125
Kudos: 339





	trust fall

**Author's Note:**

> Each of the fics in this series stands on its own, so it's not necessary to have read the others.

_**Please call me when you’re ready to come home. Neither of you is driving in that state.** _

**[Husband]**   
**Honey, we’re FINE.**

_**Baby, you’re singing Mariah an hour ahead of schedule.** _

**[Husband]**   
**Mariah waits for no one!**

Patrick snorts as he tosses his phone on the bed next to him and picks up his book once more, trying to find where he was on the page when David’s first text came in. Ever since The Wobbly Elm started doing monthly karaoke nights, he, David, and Stevie (when she’s in town) are frequent attendees. Patrick is supposed to be there with them now, making inappropriate commentary with Stevie in the booth and recording David’s post-drink-three vocal stylings on his phone and threatening to release it on the social media platform of his choosing. 

He’s supposed to be, but he’s not because Alexis is in town, too, and something she’d eaten at the Cafe hadn’t sat well, so Patrick volunteered to stay home with her just in case she needed anything. David informed him quite vociferously that bailing on his carefully curated setlist to listen to his sister ‘yak in the bathroom’ was both a ‘slight against their marital contract and a dereliction of his husbandly duty.’

Patrick always can tell when David has recently spoken to his mother. 

The creak of the door hinge pulls his attention away from the book he wasn’t actually reading, and he looks up to find his sister-in-law poking at the cracked door, pushing it further ajar. 

“Hey,” he greets, putting the book aside once more, “how are you feeling?” 

She gives a little shrug and tugs on her braid, inching into the room. “Like the morning after Elijah Wood and I road-tripped from London to Edinburgh and ended up storming the castle with one of the other Hobbits.”

“I see.” He doesn’t. 

“It also might have been a pub that just _looked_ like a castle?” She shrugs again. “We bailed when Sir Ian showed up and things got _really_ rowdy.”

“Ah.” He shifts on the bed, unsure if that means she’s actually feeling better or not. She honestly looks exhausted. Her usually flawless skin is pale and there are purple moons beneath her eyes that definitely weren’t there earlier in the day when she sat across from her brother at their breakfast table and carefully needled him with all the precision of a brain surgeon until he stormed off in a huff, taking his pancakes with him. “Can I get you anything?” he tries. 

She’s staring at the carpet, picking at a manicure that was perfect that morning but is now chipped and cracked along the edges. 

“Patrick…?” she starts, refusing to look up. She licks her lips and abandons her nails to tug on her braid once more but further words do not come. 

“Yeah?” He swings his legs over the side of the bed and rests his elbows on his knees, giving her his undivided attention. He knows when a Rose is trying to start a serious conversation. 

“Um,” she finally glances up and he’s genuinely surprised to find her eyes wet, “will you please give me a hug?” 

“Oh,” he doesn’t mean to reply, but he can probably count on two hands the number of times she’s hugged him. Nose boops? Sure, thousands. But hugs? “Of course,” he whispers, standing up and opening his arms, a little unsure as she carefully steps into them, arms tucked up to her chest, a silent request just to be held. 

So he does. 

He never had a sibling before Alexis. Stevie, too, in a way, though she’d call herself an ‘accomplice’ more than anything else. It took him a bit to navigate the waters at first, to learn the language known only to those who’ve grown up together and to determine the fine line between bickering and banter, but he’s getting better. And Alexis is so clearly in need of comfort that it’s second nature to just wrap his arms around her and hug her in tight, pressing her close to his chest and letting her rest her head on his shoulder as she twists his threadbare t-shirt in between her fingers. 

He doesn’t ask her what’s wrong; it’ll come out in time, if at all. You can’t rush a Rose. Trust him, he’s tried. He doesn’t have to wait long, though, because less than ten seconds later, she starts to tremble and he feels dampness on the collar of his shirt where her face is pressed. 

“Whoa, hey,” he whispers, holding her tighter and rubbing his hands up and down her back. She finally gets her arms around him and clings on, stepping closer even though there’s barely any room between them. “Okay,” he murmurs, when it becomes clear she isn’t going to say anything. “Okay.” He gently sways with her until the trembling stops and the little sniffles that seem to be escaping against her will subside. He continues to hold her until she’s the one to pull away, bringing her hands around to toy with the front of his t-shirt once more as he hangs onto her arms lightly, keeping her close but letting her step back should she want to. “Do you want to talk about it?” he finally asks. She shakes her head. 

“No.” 

“Okay.” 

The shake becomes a nod. “Yes.” 

“Okay.” He slides his palms down her arms and takes her hands, tugging her gently and nodding towards the edge of the bed in a silent question. She goes willingly, dropping down with a groan and shaking out her shoulders, like the brief moment of vulnerability is an unwanted advance from an undesirable suitor at a dive bar she wouldn't be caught dead in. 

“If I tell you this, I need to know that you won’t tell anyone. Not even David. _Especially_ not David,” she says sharply before poking him in the thigh. “No pillow talk or-or secret sharing. I know you two have this whole ‘til death do us part’ thing going on, but even Death has a few things she doesn’t tell anyone, I’m sure.” 

“Alexis - ” he says, because he truly has no idea how to respond to that. Except to say, “I won’t tell David.” And he means it. 

“Okay,” she says, psyching herself up with another little shoulder shimmy. It delights him how alike David and Alexis are, even after years apart. “Okay. There is...” she inhales, “a positive pregnancy test sitting on the counter in your guest bathroom.” She exhales. Then, after a loaded moment that has his ears ringing, she adds, “It’s mine.” 

“Yep, got that," he manages. This is not where he thought the conversation was going when Alexis tiptoed through his door minutes ago. Panic is knocking at his ribcage, reminding him only too gleefully of the time he and Rachel had a pregnancy scare and he genuinely thought he was having a heart attack, but now is not the time. This is not about him. “What can I do?” he asks softly instead. “What do you need?” 

"I have absolutely no idea," she shrugs, but she leans her head on his shoulder. “Just this, maybe.” 

He presses a kiss to her crown and rests his head on top of hers. “You got it,” he says, taking her hand once more. He has a _million_ questions, _none_ of which he’s going to ask because it’s none of his goddamn business, but he bites his lips just in case one decides to try and slip out. 

He thinks he has an answer to the most pressing one. 

“Ted visited me the month before last,” she says. 

Which Patrick knew. 

“But I was seeing a guy casually right before then.” 

Which Patrick did not. 

“So you don’t know whose it is,” he blurts without meaning to. After a loaded moment, she shakes her head. 

He does _not_ mention Bridget Jones’s Baby. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she admits after an extended pause, a silence that’s only filled by the steady sound of their breath. 

“That’s okay. You don’t need to have an answer right now.” 

She nods again, like she needed to hear that. Like she needed permission to not know how to proceed on this absolutely life-changing course of action. “My body, my problem,” she murmurs, a hint of a smile for a memory he isn’t privy to. 

“Your body, your choice,” he replies carefully, because going by the look on her face, he’s not entirely sure she sees this as a problem. A change in plan? Definitely. A surprise? Absolutely. But… not necessarily a problem. He nudges her with his shoulder. “Our family. Regardless.” 

She smiles and nudges back, leaning her weight against him once more and knocking their knees together. 

“Um," he starts (auspiciously), "speaking of family, I’m not - I’m not really good with this sort of stuff. You know, the - ” he gestures vaguely at her midsection, “of it all. But if you want someone to talk to, someone who knows a bit more about this,” because he knows it sure as hell won’t be Moira Rose, “I’m sure my mom would be happy to lend an ear. Just - if you’re comfortable with that.” He expects her to turn him down - Alexis is nothing if not ferociously independent and if anyone can navigate this without advice or a sounding board, it’s her. He’s waiting for the laugh or the wrist flick that will just bat away the issue, but when he feels her tilt her head up, he looks down and her wide eyes are blinking back tears. 

“You think so?” she asks quietly. 

“That my mom will talk to you? Of course. She loves you.” And she does. There’s something about the Rose children that has Patrick questioning his actual place in the order of ‘Marcy Brewer’s Favorites.’ As an only child, it’s taken him a considerable amount of soul-searching to reconcile this.

Alexis’ nose scrunches and her eyes squint, pleased beyond compare at the news, and she settles into his shoulder once more. “Maybe.” Then she throws him for a complete loop when she asks, “Do you think I’d be a good mom?” 

“I do,” he immediately replies, and she pinches his knee. “Ow!” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“I’m not!” he assures, covering her hand with his own, to comfort mainly, but also to keep her from maiming him again. “Alexis, you’d be a great mom.” 

“Please. I’d probably, like, leave them in the middle of the crosswalk at the first sign of a sample sale.”

“No you wouldn’t.” 

“No I wouldn’t," she replies, sighing, and he takes a second to look at her - to _really_ look at the woman next to him who introduced herself as 'David’s sister and life-coach,' but the life she ended up transforming most of all through sheer determination, ingenuity, and downright audacity was her own. 

“Alexis, you’re gonna hate this, but I think you and David are a lot alike.” Sure enough, she makes a noise of protest, but he preemptively presses a “Shh” against her hair. “Do you know what he did when my parents came to town for the first time?” 

“You mean when Dad outed you and David kept squawking like a dying parakeet about all of his plans getting ruined?” 

He can’t help but laugh at the visual. “Yeah, that’s the one. But after that.” He sobers, as he always does when he truly thinks about what David did for him that day. “When he showed up at my parents’ motel room, thinking they weren’t happy about having a gay son, and basically jumped on the metaphorical grenade. For me," he says. "He offered to just be my business partner for the day. The man who loves me offered to do that," he shakes his head in ever-present wonder, “even though it might break his heart. But I knew it would definitely break mine, so I said no. Then he went to my parents and made it all okay.” He feels her watching him, hanging onto his every word. “He does that a lot, you know. And I try to return the favor as best I can, but… that’s just who David is." He looks at her then, making sure that she knows this next bit is for her. "You both have so much love to give and so much _goodness_ in you. Any one of us who is fortunate enough to be loved by a Rose knows that. So yeah, you may hate it, but you and David are the same. You’ll be a great mom, just like I think he’d be a great dad. That’s not what we want, and that’s okay. Doesn’t change the fact, though.” 

A long moment passes, before she finally whispers, “I don’t hate it.”

He smiles. “I didn’t think you would.”

She clears her throat and straightens, but her palm remains on his knee. “I know I have options. I know I have… decisions to make.” She’s playing with her braid again, tugging hard on the end; so hard that he takes his free hand and places it down on the pile on his knee, covering it with his own. 

“Which don’t have to be made tonight.” 

“No,” she reluctantly agrees. “Well, one does.” 

“Hm?” 

“I don’t know where to throw it out.” 

“The pregnancy test?” He frowns. “I would presume the trash, unless you want to… keep it? For sentimental reasons?” Do people _do_ that? 

Her face twists in disgust. “Ugh, no. It’s just - the last time someone threw a pregnancy test in the trash, everyone found it and assumed it was mine? I’d like to avoid that fate this time around, considering the circumstances.” 

And he can't help it, he laughs. “Alexis, I don’t think anyone dives through the trash here.” 

“Um, have you _met_ your husband?” 

“Okay, he only does that for cake and we don’t keep baked goods in the bedroom. Often.” he amends. 

“Oh my god, Patrick, ew.” She stands from the bed to shake off the mental image, and the troll in him, which cannot be subdued for long even when having Very Serious Conversations, cheers in victory. 

The levity doesn’t last long, though, as Alexis pauses by their dresser to inspect a photo from their wedding. She stares at it long enough that he starts to worry, glancing from the black and white image of him dancing with David, the two of them wrapped around each other like they're the only people there; the only ones that matter. Like no care in the world can touch them. 

“What?” he asks softly, and she turns.

“David hates children,” she says simply. Too simply. Sharp enough to cut right through him. 

“Very accurate,” he agrees. Then he leans forward on his elbows again, making sure he has her full, undivided attention when he says, “But he’ll love yours.” 

She takes that in, biting her lip and turning back to the picture from the wedding, like she can’t admit what she’s about to admit while looking at him. 

“I really want it to be Ted’s.” 

He sighs softly. Sadly. “I know you do.” But there’s no way to know, not right now at least. He can’t give her any comfort and meaningless platitudes help no one. So instead, he stands and takes her into his arms once more, trying to be worthy of the ‘good brother’ title she bestowed on him when she knocked on his door. 

When she trusted him with this. 

“You’ll give me Marcy’s number?” she asks against his chest and he nods, pulling his phone out of his pocket to text it to her. 

“I’ll give her a heads up in the morning that you might be in touch. You don’t have to be, though. She won’t be offended. Sometimes it’s just nice to know the option is there, should you want it.” 

She nods again and smiles. “Yeah. It is.” 

His phone chimes in his hand and, for a brief moment, he thinks it’s his mom reaching out because she’s eerily good like that; at knowing when he’s thinking of her. When he needs her. 

Instead, it’s David. 

**[Husband]**   
**HONEY6T WERE READ^yyy**

He snorts at the typos and shows her the screen. “I have to go pick up your drunk brother. Wanna come? If you’re not up for it - ” 

But Alexis reels back, affronted. “What and miss the opportunity to record David slurring his way through the Spice Girls? Absolutely not.” She tosses her braid back over her shoulder and marches toward the door like the Rose she is, but before she even makes it to the hallway, he calls her back. 

“Alexis?”

“Hm?” 

“You know what else David said to me that day? At my birthday?” She shakes her head, so he steps forward and gently takes her shoulders, just like David had done. “When I asked him what would happen if my parents didn’t react the way I thought they would, he said, ‘Then I will be here. And we will get through it together.” He gives her a moment to absorb the words, to get what he’s trying to say. And because it’s too important, he spells it out anyway. “We both will be here, Alexis. No matter what you decide. We will all get through it together.” 

She swallows and nods, stepping forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Patrick.” 

Perhaps he’s getting the hang of this sibling thing after all. 

“What are brothers for?" 

**Author's Note:**

> It's totally Ted's.


End file.
